


A Better Man (For You)

by flynnXrathbone



Series: Kadara Tales [5]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Bisexual Reyes Vidal, Developing Friendship, Developing Relationship, Emotional Vulnerability, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual sexy times, F/M, Gil POV, Gil makes a deal with the devil, Kinda, M/M, Profanity, Redemption arc for Reyes I guess?, Reyes POV, Snarky Banter, eventual flirting, mostly post-High Noon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flynnXrathbone/pseuds/flynnXrathbone
Summary: After a showdown with Sloane Kelly and messy schism with Ryder, Reyes Vidal throws himself into his work. That is, until the day Gil Brodie walks into his bar.Or: the one where Gil gets the Nomad stolen and needs to retrieve it before Ryder finds out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter’s about setting the stage, so Reyes is pretty angsty about the way he fucked up things with Ryder. But I love the idea that Gil meets him on a more even footing, and the idea that Reyes wants to improve. Better foundations for a relationship than he ever had with my idealistic Ryder, tbh.

Reyes does not deserve the way she looks at him. Such naked emotion, honesty, warmth. “You’re someone to me,” Ryder says, and it feels like he could drown in her eyes. 

If he were a better man, he’d tell her here. I’m not who you think I am. I don’t know what you see in me. But he’s not, and the deflection is easy. Practiced. As simple as lying. “I’m starting to think that kiss was more than a distraction,” he teases lightly.

The last rays of Kadara’s sun bathe her face in gold, and he’s struck once again by her beauty. He slides one practiced hand to the nape of her neck, the other to the small of her back, and pulls her hungrily to his mouth. He needs this, needs her, like breathing. Like he could absorb the goodness from her skin. Like that could actually change him.

——————

Lying alone in bed that night, he replays the scene again and again in his mind, sunset limning the outer curves of her face, her sweet inhalation of breath as their lips crash together for the second time. The way she melts into his embrace. The feel of her hands on his cheeks, in his hair, on his chest. The burning column of kisses she leaves on his neck.

He’s not a good man, he knows, but his stabbing conscience forces him to leave it there. He can see the disappointment in her eyes, as well as the high color in her cheeks, but he won’t be able to live with himself if he gives her what they both so desperately want. 

“Till next time, then,” she laughs, shrugging off her disappointment.

He can’t help the words that tumble out of his mouth in response: “It’s a promise.” 

He winces, instantly regretting the flirtatious tone as well as the sentiment. She’ll discover the truth sooner or later, and later just means additional betrayals on the ledger.

——————

She’s on his mind constantly in the following days. How has she gotten under his skin so quickly? It’s been only a few weeks since he’d first studied her files, searching for any point of leverage.

When he’d finally seen Ryder in person, across the room at Kralla’s Song, he’d congratulated himself on the imminent success of his plans. He could tell she’d be an easy mark. And with the Pathfinder wrapped around his finger, Sloane’s reign of terror would have an expiration date.

The expiration date is close at hand now, and he can’t help feeling guilty at the way he’s used her. Unbidden, her words ring in his ears: “He’s a better man than you know.” Stupid, stupid. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the image of her kind, earnest face. Why would she say that about him? What could he possibly have done to trick her into believing that?

His Collective scouts have a lead on Kaetus’ movements. Sloane’s vicious turian lieutenant may not have been responsible for all of her worst excesses, but there’s some karmic justice in leaving his battered, broken body in the street for her to find. The Collective enforcers who carry out the beating certainly agree. He selected them carefully for this task, choosing the ones whose eyes burned vengefully at the thought of personally visiting the Outcasts’ brutal techniques upon its second-in-command.

Now, he pings both Sloane and the Pathfinder, sending a navpoint and an invitation from the Charlatan via an encrypted channel. Draullir awaits.

——————

“Guess you got everything you wanted,” Ryder says icily. 

Not everything, he thinks. “What I want is peace. Sloane would have brought war to Heleus. We don’t have the population to survive that.” 

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Her words echo off the cavern walls behind him, her face a mask of shock, fury, and disgust.

He can be honest about this, at least. “I liked the way you looked at me. I didn’t want that to change.”

Her parting shot stings, but Reyes feels the justice of it. “Maybe Zia was right about you after all.”

There will be time for self-pity later. For now, there’s a city to take.

——————

There’s a lot of work to being the power behind the throne. Much of it involves balancing new responsibilities with old to avoid the appearance of a change in position. Reyes still lives in the spartan second-floor room above Tartarus, meeting potential clients at Kian Dagher’s bar.

He catches a significant glance from Kian and sidles over. A handsome man with spiked auburn hair and a neatly trimmed beard rests his elbows on the far edge of the bar, face cupped in his hands as he surveys the room from his shadowy corner. The uniform is standard Initiative issue, pristine and crisp. What on earth is he doing alone in the bowels of Tartarus?

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

The man gazes back warily, intriguing Reyes still further. “I know who you are,” he says. “You better not think any of your games will work on me.”

Reyes smiles wide, teeth gleaming dangerously under the neon lights of the bar. “That puts me at a disadvantage,” he replies. “I don’t believe we’ve met: Reyes Vidal, procurer of goods and information. Very discreet, for a price.”

The man smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Gil Brodie, Tempest chief engineer. And from one poker player to another: I recognize a charlatan when I see one.”

Reyes throws his head back and laughs, a thinly veiled threat. “Then we have a friend in common,” he says softly. “One who values the position of the Nexus colony here on Kadara. Who would hate to see its wellbeing jeopardized over a petty grudge.”

Gil sneers. “Ryder doesn’t know I’m here, if that’s what you’re implying. And your secret’s safe. She’s made sure of it. I just wanted to see you squirm.”

“Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what can I do for you, Brodie?” Reyes passes him a tumbler of whiskey with an easy smile.

“Word is you’re a man who gets results,” Gil says, with some disdain. Despite the tone Reyes can feel the engineer’s eyes sliding over his body, appraising him head to toe. “I find myself in need of... your particular skill set.”

Reyes waits expectantly, but Gil remains silent. “Well, you’ve certainly piqued my interest,” he chuckles, his voice low and seductive. “Perhaps we could discuss the details in a more intimate setting?” The engineer coughs on his drink, flushing slightly, and Reyes grins, knowing that he’s successfully evened the playing field.

“Here is just fine,” Gil replies, keeping his voice steady with effort.

A tense silence hangs between the two men until Reyes breaks it.

“The Pathfinder doesn’t know you’re here. What could you possibly want from me that you need to keep secret from her?”

Reyes is amused to see that his insinuating tone makes the Tempest’s chief engineer blush even deeper than before, all the way to the tips of his ears. It’s the man’s own fault for thinking he could go toe to toe with Reyes.

“I... lost something,” Gil mutters. “Something irreplaceable.”

“Drinking on the job? Or betting with the wrong exile?”

Gil snorts indignantly. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be stupid enough to gamble something the Tempest needs. And anyway, I don’t lose at poker. Ever.”

Reyes leans in with a conspiratorial wink. “Your secret’s safe with me, friend.”

A deep, despairing sigh. “I might have gotten the Nomad stolen,” he admits in a whisper. “I need it back fast. We’re already down an escape pod.”

“Get that jacked too?”

Gil groans. “No, that one fell into a volcano. Wasn’t me.” He buries his face in his hands. “Ryder’s gonna kill me if she finds out the Nomad’s gone.”

Reyes smirks. “So that’s why I’m your only hope. What’s in it for me, though?”

Gil falls silent. Reyes’ eyes widen in delighted amusement. “Come on, Brodie! You say you know who I am—I’m certain my reputation doesn’t involve doing favors for free.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he mutters. “I’m an ace engineer, that’s got to be worth something.”

“And I’m supposed to help you, what, on credit?”

“Whiskey,” Gil snaps his fingers. “I hear you like it.” 

“Got a secret stash for me?”

“Even better,” he says. “I’ll build the best damn still in Heleus. You petty crime-boss types love cornering the market on vice.”

Reyes mulls it over. “An interesting proposition, but not a guarantee.”

“Fine, then, a wager. I’ll build it, and if you’re not satisfied we can work out another way to discharge my debt.”

“You’d risk owing me? You’re that confident in your skills?” Reyes slaps him on the back, laughing. “I like you already, Brodie!”

“How do I know you won’t double-cross me and keep the Nomad for yourself?” Gil asks uneasily.

Reyes flashes a brilliant smile. “You don’t. Ready?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil and Reyes find themselves in a bind. Can they work together to escape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s a Gil POV; I think I’m going to alternate between them. I’m having a lot of fun writing the snarky banter between Gil and Reyes—hope you enjoy reading it!

The afternoon sun bathes Kadara’s peaks in fire, while the sulfurous groundwater provides the brimstone. This, Gil thinks, is his own personal hell. As if the injury of having the Nomad stolen out from under his nose wasn’t enough, now there’s the insult of trudging through the badlands, sweat, flies, and rotten-egg stink clinging to him, escorted by the shadiest bastard he’s ever met. 

To make matters worse, Reyes delights in Gil’s transparent attraction to him. He’s hot, Gil will admit. He would even congratulate Ryder on her taste in men, if the man in question weren’t a liar, a thief, and a murderer. Besides, he can’t tell Ryder that he’s been cozying up to her ex without explaining the reason.

If only he’d listened to Kallo, Gil thinks ruefully, he wouldn’t be in this predicament. 

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting our bargain already,” Reyes chuckles.

“No, just trying to figure out which of my poor life choices led me to this point,” Gil quips. “Was it joining the Andromeda Initiative, or earlier?” 

“My money’s on ‘taking your state-of-the-art rover for a solo joyride on a planet full of scavengers and thieves.’”

“It was a test run!” he retorts indignantly.

“So you’ve said, and I’m sure those brand-new experimental boosters you installed made it a less attractive target.”

Gil sighs. Despicable asshole or not, Vidal has a point. “So, Charlatan—can I call you that? Where do we start our search?” 

“Reyes is fine.”

“How about Shena?”

“If I were you, I’d spend less effort trying to irritate the man saving your skin. Especially since he’s got the only leads on your Nomad.”

“Right, I’m sure you’re more susceptible to flattery,” Gil replies. “How’s this: help me, Reyes Vidal, you’re my only hope!” He clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes winningly.

“A fan of the classics, I see. But if you’re trying to butter me up, I’m more of a Han Solo, perhaps with a dash of Cassian Andor.”

“Modest too,” Gil snorts.

The smuggler makes a sweeping bow, a sardonic grin tugging the corners of his mouth. “Naturally.” 

They’ve arrived at a small plateau overlooking a secluded valley. Gil still doesn’t see why they couldn’t have taken a shuttle. It’s not like they’re particularly close to any large encampments, but Reyes thought it would attract too much attention. “Wouldn’t want to risk my ride getting stolen too,” he’d said with a wink. Twisting the knife. Reyes is good at that, Gil notices.

Now he’s adjusting a scope, intently scanning the valley below. “Based on the navpoint you gave me, I’d wager the Outcasts are your thieves,” Reyes says. “Even the most insignificant members of the Collective know that Team Pathfinder is off-limits, doubly so since the assistance in securing Kadara Port.” He flashes a wolfish grin.

“What about unaffiliated parties?” Gil asks, ignoring the obvious bait.

“Too close to the slums for that. They know enough to steer clear of Collective territory.” Reyes returns his scope to its case. “Time for some answers. Ready to get your hands dirty?” Without waiting for Gil’s response, he’s lowered himself over the plateau edge, searching for tenuous handholds on the rock face. “No jump jets,” he calls up softly. “We’re going in quiet.”

Well, this might be a problem. He’s handy with a wrench or a circuit, but Gil’s never exactly been athletic. He takes a deep breath and follows Reyes, trying in vain not to calculate the impact force of a fall from this height. 

“You’ll be ok, Brodie,” Reyes mocks him from somewhere below. “Just don’t look down.”

Bastard.

Gil makes his way down the side of the cliff, sweat pouring freely from his face and neck, imagining the ways he could make Vidal pay for this fresh indignity. Suddenly, he feels rock crumbling under his fingertips, and he’s falling with a scream. He manages to fire his jets before hitting ground, but the impact winds him. When he catches his breath, he’s staring up the muzzle of a gun towards a heavily armored figure silhouetted against the sinking sun. 

“On your feet, Initiative scum. Slowly—don’t try anything.”

Gil complies, hands raised above his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Reyes in a similar predicament. This operation definitely could have gone better. A third outlaw approaches their captors, also heavily armored and equipped.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Reyes Vidal! This must be our lucky day, boys,” the man drawls, and spits into the dirt. “There’s a price on your head, traitor. We know you sold out Sloane Kelly.”

Sold out...? It hadn’t really occurred to Gil that Vidal’s alter ego is not just an open secret in the Kadara underworld. Maybe that’s why he’s had so much success. 

“I’m flattered,” Reyes says smoothly, “although I fear my contribution may have been somewhat exaggerated. Perils of being such a convincing liar—people start believing your hype.”

The leader cracks him across the face with the butt of his assault rifle, and Gil winces sympathetically. Reyes’ nose doesn’t appear to be broken, but there’s blood trickling from one nostril and a bruise already purpling below his cheekbone. “Bind him!”

“What about this one?” Gil’s captor asks. He’s barely more than a boy, with a thin reedy voice and acne scars. Gil feels a surge of sympathy, kinship even, despite the weapon pressed to his forehead. What past misfortunes have led this young man to where he is now? 

“Kill him,” the leader replies tersely. “No point in keeping another captive if we can’t count on a payout.”

Reyes laughs heartily, and Gil wishes they’d hit him again. “Certainly not the brains of this operation, are you?” the smuggler sneers.

“I’m happy to beat you further,” the leader snarls. “Reward’s for you alive. Doesn’t mention condition.” 

“Go ahead,” Reyes shrugs. “I just figured you’d want the extra credits. Since you’re looking at the Charlatan’s primary Initiative contact.”

Gil swallows hard, eyes widening slightly, as he catches on to Reyes’ ruse. “Fuck you, Vidal. You’d sell your own mother for the right price.” He hopes he sounds convincing.

“I’m not saying I believe you,” the leader growls, “but I suppose we can keep him around till we check it out. You’ll pay dearly if you’re lying.”

Reyes smiles innocently. “In my position? What could I possibly stand to gain?”

The Outcasts throw them both into a single makeshift cell in a nearby cave. Deprived of his armor, bound at the chest, wrists, and ankles, stretched out on the pockmarked limestone floor, Gil is glad for the other man’s warmth next to him. “Thanks for your help back there,” he whispers. 

Reyes winks and shoots him a cheeky grin. The effect should be marred by the dried blood and oversized bruise, but Gil can’t help smiling back. “Don’t worry, Brodie, I’ve got these guys right where I want ‘em.” His bravado is heartening, even if it’s just for Gil’s benefit.

“I’m listening,” Gil grins. “What’s the plan?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes is backed into a corner, and has to protect Gil too. An unexpected visitor arrives in the nick of time.

Think, Reyes, think. 

The rope on his wrists holds tight despite his struggles. There must be something in here he can use. The stone floor is cratered, but he can’t see any edges rough enough to fray the bonds.

A couple feet away, Gil twists his body to face Reyes. “Thanks for your help back there.” He looks badly shaken from his brush with death, and Reyes feels a protective instinct. The engineer is a good man, a civilian, who’s fallen headfirst into a situation he’s totally unprepared for. Funny, too. Until their capture, Reyes had found himself genuinely enjoying Gil’s company, more so than he’d enjoyed anything for the past several weeks.

He smiles—though the effort makes battered face ache—and winks at his compatriot. “Don’t worry, Brodie, I’ve got these guys right where I want ‘em.”

“I’m listening,” Gil smiles back. “What’s the plan?” 

Good lord, are those dimples? Reyes is glad he’s already sitting down. “I’ve got a failsafe in place, but I’d prefer not to rely on that,” he responds. “Can you move any closer?”

They push themselves across the floor until their bodies touch. “Back to back,” Reyes orders. “I’ll do what I can.” He wiggles and twists until he feels Gil’s warm, callused fingers brushing his own. Pressing his body still closer, he manages to find the knot and begins to work at it. The process is slow—the ends of his fingers are stiff and bloodless from the tight restraints—but eventually he gains purchase on one end and loosens it slightly. 

“They’re coming!” Gil hisses, and sure enough, Reyes hears echoing footsteps moving towards their position. Gil rolls away just before the youngest Outcast appears at their cell door. 

“Time to move,” their captor says, unlocking the door and gesturing with his assault rifle. 

“That’s going to be tough without the use of my legs,” Reyes responds. 

Rolling his eyes, the young man cuts the rope binding his ankles and grasps Reyes’ bicep, roughly pulling him to his feet. 

“Much better,” Reyes grins, slamming his forehead into the young man’s face. He staggers back, blood streaming from his nose, and Reyes charges forward, using his momentum and his shoulder to drive the hapless guard’s skull into the metal bars. He crumples to the floor with a groan, gun and knife falling from his unconscious hands with a loud clatter.

“We have to hurry,” Reyes whispers urgently, falling to his knees and twisting to reach the knife. Gil looks stunned, but redoubles his efforts against the rope holding his wrists. 

Reyes saws awkwardly through his own rope, strand by strand, until it falls away. With his hands free, he easily cuts the rope from his chest and moves over to help Gil. 

He’s not fast enough. Hearing more footsteps, Gil nods grimly and Reyes dives for the gun. He grasps the stock and slides back into position, shielding Gil with his body. Neither man has armor, so a firefight won’t break in their favor. Hopefully Reyes can buy enough time to take out a second guard. 

“Gil, you shifty pyjak!” A booming krogan voice calls. “Enjoying your nap?”

Gil’s eyes widen. “That’s—“

“The cavalry, yes,” Reyes lets out a sigh of relief, letting his weapon hang slack. “I’d hoped they’d show up for your sake, if not mine.”

Nakmor Drack, the Pathfinder’s krogan bodyguard, stomps into view, followed closely by the turian smuggler, Vetra Nyx. Ryder herself brings up the rear. 

“I should have known you’d pull me into another mess,” she growls, eyes burning holes through Reyes’ skull. “First: I’m not your friend, and I don’t owe you shit. Second? Stay away from my crew, asshole.”

Behind him, Gil coughs and shifts uncomfortably. Oh yeah, the ropes. Vetra has stepped in to cut him loose. “Not entirely fair, boss. That is, um—it’s kinda my fault we got stuck in here.”

“Gil...” Her voice is steely, and Reyes has to admit that seeing Ryder’s commanding side turns him on just a little.

“Let me guess,” Vetra smirks. “The reason you’re tied up in a cave with this miserable fucker is related to the reason we had to walk all the way from the slums and fight two eirochs on foot.”

Drack chuckles. “Most fun I’ve had all week. I oughta thank you for that, kid.”

Gil sighs, rubbing his wrists and avoiding eye contact with his squad. “My apologies, Pathfinder,” Reyes lies easily. “I had a line on some fancy tech to improve the Nomad, and thought your engineer might want to check it out. Since we’re not really on speaking terms.” He manages a charming grin, with effort. It’s still painful to look her in the eye.

“No, Reyes, you don’t have to cover for me.” Gil takes a deep breath. “I took the Nomad out to test its latest upgrades. Kallo warned me not to, but he can be such a stick in the mud. Turns out he was right.”

“What happened?” Ryder asks, concerned.

“I still don’t really know,” Gil admits ruefully. “I found a good secluded spot to take the Nomad through her paces. I stepped out to tinker with the undercarriage, and next thing I know, I’m flat on my back in a cloud of dust, watching her speed away.”

“Why didn’t you come to ME? Or Vetra at least?”

Gil lets out a hollow laugh. “Ryder, you’ve got the fate of the galaxy on your plate. You don’t need to deal with my fuck-ups on top of that. Though I suppose you are anyway.” He pauses, staring up at the ceiling. “Besides, I was ashamed. I figured that the least I could do to make it right was sort this mess out on my own.”

Reyes clears his throat. “This is touching, really, but I assume you’d like to get your rover back.” He stands, brushing the dirt off his clothes, and steps out of the cell. 

Behind him, Drack grunts in approval. “Someone’s got a headbutt to make an old krogan proud.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil feels he may have been too hard on Reyes.

As the team starts to explore the small Outcast hideout, Vetra claps Gil on the back, a wide grin on her face. “Glad we found you, Gil! Don’t think I’ll let you live this down any time soon.” 

Gil wraps his arms tightly around his friend, burying his face in her shoulder. “I’d be disappointed if you did, Vetra. Can I just say, your timing is impeccable. Never been so glad to see your scaly mug.”

“We would’ve been here sooner if we’d been able to drive,” she laughs.

“Don’t remind me.”

With the aid of her SAM implant, Ryder is able to locate a datapad quickly. Sure enough, the device shows contact information and a navpoint for the buyer of the stolen Nomad. 

Meanwhile, Reyes whistles, and Gil looks over. “Missing something, Brodie?” He holds up a standard Initiative chestplate and gestures towards the footlocker in the corner.

“Thank god,” Gil replies. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving the Tempest without these any time soon.”

“That’s a shame,” Reyes says, eyes dancing mischievously. “I could get used to the view.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Gil responds, accepting his armor with a smile. “Even when you’re a bit worse for the wear.” He stares at the fresh bruising on Reyes’ forehead and moves closer, concerned. “How’s your head?” 

Reyes grins wryly. “I’ve had worse.” But he draws his breath in sharply when Gil reaches out, gently brushing his swollen cheek.

“Let me help you,” Gil offers. “I owe you that, at the very least.”

Reyes shrugs him off. “There’ll be time later. A rover for a still, that was the deal, right?”

——————

Ryder, Reyes, Vetra, and Drack make quick work of the Outcasts holding the stolen Nomad. Gil marvels at their efficiency and coordination. He’s never really gotten a chance to observe his squadmates in the field, and though he’s pretty certain he won’t want to repeat the exercise after today’s ordeal, it’s impressive nonetheless. 

The drive back to the slums, long after dark, is laughably quick. All that trouble and the missing rover was a stone’s throw away from Kadara Port the whole time. Gil exits the vehicle behind Reyes, telling Ryder that he’ll catch up to the team aboard the Tempest. She nods, but not before fixing him with a worried look. “Be careful, Gil. I mean it.”

Gil nods, and makes his way over to Reyes. “Hey,” he says, suddenly tongue-tied in front of the man who saved his life.

“Hey yourself,” Reyes replies softly. 

“Quite a day, Han Solo,” he jokes lamely. “Didn’t much like playing the damsel in distress, but having a sexy space pirate protect me was pretty great.”

Reyes laughs, but doesn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m... willing to admit that I misjudged you,” Gil says, heart pounding.

Reyes shakes his head. He’s smiling, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, you got me exactly right, Gil Brodie. And you deserve a better man than me.”

Gil starts to protest, but Reyes is already walking into the shadows. “I’ve hurt enough people lately without adding you to that list.”

——————

The next couple of weeks are busy, with the Tempest jumping around the Heleus Cluster on viability missions. Gil’s got plenty to do, between fixing up the Nomad after each trip and keeping the Tempest flying smoothly. But his mind keeps drifting back to Kadara.

In his downtime, he takes to working in the tech lab, side by side with Jaal. The angara seems content to share the space, and also fascinated by Gil’s personal project. 

“Hm. I understand that copper will distribute the heat evenly. But will it not also react with the sulfur in the local water?” Jaal asks.

“Right you are!” Gil responds, without looking up from the small vat he’s shaping. “It reacts to the sulfur from the yeast, too. But the copper sulfate residue won’t distill into the liquor, and it won’t even leave that nasty smell as long as you clean the still thoroughly between uses.”

“Why take the chance, though?” Jaal wonders. “Are there other properties the copper possesses that make it ideal for such a purpose?”

Gil has to stop and think. “Well, it’ll resist corrosion from weather, for one. If I recall, it’s also got antimicrobial properties.”

Jaal nods, impressed.

“But mostly? Tradition!” Gil grins, setting down his tools. “The old-timers I knew back on Earth used to swear by copper for their stills.”

“Your craftsmanship is excellent,” Jaal murmurs, examining the finished vat. “You are making this for the one we call Shena?” 

Gil colors slightly at the name. “I owe him,” he responds. “He saved my life, and fixed my mistake.”

Jaal glances over slyly, noticing the shift in tone. “You know why we call him that, right? ‘Shena’ is the Shelesh word for ‘mouth.’”

Gil can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. “You’re messing with me, Jaal! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Maybe so,” he chuckles, “but I’m not lying either. You’ll have to let me know whether you find the name apt.”

“Oh my god, Jaal.” Gil scrambles out of the lab, face and ears burning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes and Gil have unfinished business with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter bumps the rating up to M. Hooray for smut with lots of feelings attached!

It’s another day for the puppet master of Kadara Port. Trade and profits are up, the angara are satisfied with the shift in leadership, and Outcast influence is waning. According to Keema, the Collective has even managed to turn a handful of low-level operatives. Most recent was a young guy with acne scars and a freshly broken nose, to Reyes’ boundless amusement.

“Kid might have some potential after all,” he mutters, closing Keema’s report. There’s a new alert on his omnitool, and he stares at the source in disbelief. The Pathfinder wants to meet.

——————

He finds Ryder standing on the roof—their roof—gazing out over the city. “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

She turns and sighs. “Don’t, Reyes. I’m not ready to pretend that we’re okay with each other.”

His breath catches. “But?”

“But I want to thank you for keeping Gil safe. He told me what you did for him. Can’t stop singing your praises, in fact.”

“He’s a good man,” Reyes says wistfully. “And no need to thank me. If I hadn’t made him climb down that cliff, we wouldn’t have gotten nabbed in the first place. Who knew a member of your team could be so green?”

Ryder laughs. “That’s almost a compliment.” 

“I’m serious, Ryder. I didn’t take out Sloane only to get more innocent people killed. Gil could have died because of me.” He’s shaken just uttering the words out loud.

Ryder takes his hand, looking him straight in the eye. “He didn’t,” she says gently. “And Gil’s a grown-ass man who can take responsibility for his own idiotic actions.” She lets go, turning away. “I may not agree with... with what you did to Sloane. But I see now why you did it. Kadara is better in your hands.”

There’s a lump forming in his throat. He has to struggle to keep the emotion out of his voice when he finally speaks. “For what it’s worth, Pathfinder... I admire that about you. I wish I could have been the man you thought I was.”

“He’s in there somewhere. I’m sure you can find him if you try.” She smiles briefly, and then she’s gone. “Don’t be a stranger, Reyes.”

——————

It’s a day full of surprises. Back in his room at Tartarus, Reyes hears a confident knock on the door. Only a few people know to look for him here, and he’s not expecting any of them today. Checking the security feed, he throws the door open. “Gil! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gil’s cocky smile makes him weak in the knees. “We’ve got unfinished business, Reyes! Or did you forget?” 

He winks, and Reyes takes a step back, momentarily at a loss for words. “I... uh...” he clears his throat. “Please come in.”

Gil breezes past him, setting a medium crate on the countertop and unpacking its contents. First, a gleaming copper still, just large enough to produce about a liter of alcohol. “I know, I know,” Gil quips. “Not enough to corner the market, but I figured you’d need proof of my talents, for starters. You didn’t catch me at my best the other day.”

Reyes feels a smile tugging at his lips. “So true. Go ahead, convince me.”

Gil produces a metal bottle with a flourish. “Corn whiskey. White lightning. Might not match the Milky Way varieties, but it’ll do in a pinch.” He pours two shots of the clear spirit, holding one out to Reyes. “At least until we figure out which local plants make the best barrels for aging.”

The whiskey’s smooth and strong, a clean finish with just a hint of a burn. “Impressive.”

And there it is again, Gil’s cocky grin. “I know.”

Reyes shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself. “What are you doing here, Gil?”

“If you haven’t figured that out yet...” Gil trails off, voice low, eyes smoldering. “I want you, Reyes. If you’ll have me.” 

He takes a step closer, and Reyes can feel his pulse racing. He hadn’t dared to hope that this could happen. “Wait,” he says, his voice close to breaking. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Maybe not,” Gil replies. “But I know that I’d like to know you better. My eyes are open, Reyes. You don’t need to hide from me.”

Reyes laughs silently and steps toward him. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

Gil smiles. “Just be honest with me. As for hurt, well, there are never any guarantees.” He holds his whiskey up ceremoniously. “I came to Andromeda for a new beginning. What about you?”

Reyes nods, clinking Gil’s shot with his own before emptying it. “I’ll drink to that.”

Tossing the cup to the floor, he pulls Gil in by the hips. The heat between their bodies makes him dizzy. He’s breathing hard already, and when Gil pins him against the wall he moans involuntarily. 

Gil grins wickedly. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun.” He holds himself just out of reach, tracing Reyes’ parted lips with his thumb. 

Reyes’ eyes flutter closed and open again, full of naked desire. “Please, Gil.” His breath hitches as Gil pulls his head back by his hair and nips at the base of his neck. “Don’t... ohhhh... don’t tease me.” 

“Are you sure?” Gil murmurs playfully, lips to his throat. “You seem to be enjoying my teasing.” He locks eyes with Reyes, who swallows and nods, before kissing him hard, teeth tugging at his lower lip. 

“Ahhh... yes, yes, I want this,” Reyes pleads. “I need you, Gil.” His body is trembling, his skin feels like it’s on fire under Gil’s practiced touch. Nimble callused fingers peel his shirt from his sweat-covered chest, and Gil leaves constellations of bites and kisses from his collarbone to his waist. 

Reyes is hard and ready, and wants to make sure Gil is, too. Reaching down, he tenderly pulls his lover up to meet his lips. “Let me,” he whispers, sinking to his knees. 

He slides his fingers under Gil’s waistband and pulls his pants to the floor. Caressing his ass and leaving slow, languorous kisses on his inner thigh, Reyes feels Gil shiver. He grasps the shaft of Gil’s cock at the base, and begins tracing his tongue in circles around the crown. When Reyes takes him fully into his mouth, Gil gasps, burying his fingers in Reyes’ hair and tugging.

“Not here,” Gil manages, finally. Reyes leads him to bed, and they collapse in each other’s arms, exploring new pleasures together.

——————

Lying in bed afterwards, satisfied and sweaty with limbs blissfully tangled, Reyes rests his head on Gil’s chest. “Did you mean it? What you said earlier?” 

Gil strokes his hair tenderly, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “Every word.”

“Stay with me. Please,” Reyes stammers. “If... if you want to.”

Gil takes Reyes’ face between his hands, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses Reyes slowly, passionately. When he finally pulls away, there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “That reminds me... I found out what your angaran codename means.”

Reyes laughs. “And? What’s the verdict?”

Gil chuckles, pulling him in for another kiss. “I’ve got no complaints.”

Reyes buries his face in his lover’s neck. “That makes two of us.”


End file.
